Unbreaking A Heart
by Reynsi
Summary: Set in the summer of 2007. Craig and Sarah go on a holiday to Zante, leaving John Paul behind. Upon returning to Hollyoaks Craig realises that his love affair with John Paul has come to an end. How does he react? Hope you enjoy and feel free to comment!
1. Chapter 1

**Unbreaking A Heart**

**Part One - Knots and Butterflies**

_1) Monday 30 July 2007_

I hardly slept the entire night. A few times I managed to forget myself, half asleep half awake, kind of dream-thinking about what would happen when I came back ... when we'd be back together. Sometimes it even felt like it was real, that events where already taking place and I was really back ... with him. Still, I can't call it a dream, until that last part, when he embraced me, welcoming me back. The last part, when I was suddenly swept back to where I really was, with her, in our hotel bed. The butterflies I'd felt in my stomach during the dream disappeared and the knots that had been increasing day by day returned.

The flight back from Zante was horrible. It dragged on, yet, when the seat belt lights came on for landing, it felt like only seconds. The same for the train and taxi ride back. Finally – yet suddenly – Sarah and I were standing in the Dog, being welcomed by my mum. And then all of a sudden, Sarah was gone, because of something my mum said. I didn't really get it, because in the background I saw someone that made the knots in my stomach tighten so that I had to put all my effort into not collapsing on the floor. When my mum finally blocked my vision the tension decreased so that I could follow her up to the flat, where I allowed myself to fall down on the sofa while she fussed over me for the rest of the day.

At ten o'clock that night I excused myself and went to bed. I wasn't lying when I said I was tired after the holiday and the flight home. Still, I knew that I wouldn't really be going to sleep once in my bed. After undressing, I reluctantly took up my backpack and found my mobile phone. I'd left it switched off since the taxi arrived in the village, that day when I left him, running after us ... running after me. Hesitating, I sighed nervously before switching it on. I put it on the bedside table and sat down on the bed, dreading what I would see once the unread messages would start pouring in.

It didn't take long before the phone started vibrating. A few moments later it seemed to be finished and I slowly reached out for it. I paused before turning the screen to my face and prepared myself mentally for what I would see.

The first message was from the mobile company telling me I had a voice mail message waiting. I pressed the number and waited for the verdict.

"You have three new voicemail messages."

'Three? Not more?' I thought to myself.

"Message, left on 19 July at 5.38 PM ... Uhh, Craig, What the fuck? ..." I could hear John Paul's breathing but no more words were spoken before the message ended. I pressed to delete the message and put the phone back to my ear.

"Message, left on 19 July at 6.03 PM ... Craig ... What ... I ..." I was surprised when I heard the tone so abruptly signaling the end of the message. I listened to it again before deleting it and prepared for the last message.

"Message, left on 21 July at 10.07 PM ... Craig, it's me. So I guess you've switched off your phone. Anyway, I wanted to talk, but ..." I heard a short hesitation on the recording "Well, no worries. Bye."

I took in the softness of John Paul's voice, and exhaled as I decided not to delete that message. Cutting the call to the voice mail service I realised that I'd hardly been breathing while I listened to these messages. I went back to my text message inbox and deleted the one I'd just dealt with. There were a few more, mostly from my mum and sisters, wishing us a safe trip and telling us to enjoy ourselves. There was one from Darren, sent at 2.30 AM on the 22nd, telling me I'd missed a party, or something, but he'd clearly been drunk as his spelling was even worse than usual. There was none from John Paul.

I breathed a sigh of relief trying to let go of the tension I'd been building up, dreading what he'd say. I'd expected shouting or angry texts, or both, but instead, there were only these three uncertain, and calm voice mail messages. Yet, the knots remained, the dread I'd felt increasing. I took up the phone and found JP on the contact list. I inhaled as I pressed the green button and prepared myself for what he'd say when it was me, not my voice mail service, on the other end. I was taken aback when his voice mail service answered a second later. I quickly tried to think of what to say, but hung up before the beep to start recording the message sounded.

My heart was racing, but I managed to calm myself down and redialed the number. Now ready for the automated voice I tried to stay focused as I left my message.

"Hi John ... John Paul. I'm ... back. When can you meet me? Can't wait to see you! ..." I hesitated before adding, "Miss you!" I pressed the hash key and cut the call.

Putting the phone back on the bedside table and took the remote control for the little telly I kept in my room. I put it on VH1 and adjusted the volume before closing my eyes. It took a while before the knots in my stomach started loosening up and the butterflies reemerged. He was with me again.

_2) Tuesday 31 July 2007_

"Craig, wake up! You have to come down and help us in the bar."

I arose from my slumber at my mum's voice, still feeling tired. I checked my alarm and saw it was already 11.30. Why was she waking me up? It's not like they need a lot of staff for lunch on Tuesdays. I closed my eyes again and turned to face the wall, drifting off. It wasn't long before I was disturbed again by a loud banging on my door.

"Craig love, we really need you." My mum said as she opened the door and came inside. "Jack and I have to go to an all-day meeting with the brewery in Manchester, it's Darren's day off and Jake's not talking to me. Kris is coming in at 1, but I need you to hold the fort until then, and assist him until the evening shift starts."

I reluctantly opened my eyes and turned towards her. "Okay, give me 5 minutes. I'll take a quick shower and come down."

Fifteen minutes later I was stood at the bar, waiting for the first costumer to arrive. 'Why couldn't they just close the pub for a few hours?' I thought to myself in irritation. 'After all, it's only a Tuesday, and it's only gonna be that Leo Valentine until later today. I'd pay for the cans myself if he'd just drink at home!'

I felt my right pocket for my mobile and realised that I'd left it on the bedside table. I looked around the room, and contemplated what to do for a minute, before heading for the door to the flat. I was just about to open it when I heard the main door open. Turning, I said half-loudly: "Look, Leo, can ya..." I didn't get further before i realised it wasn't Leo Valentine. Into the bar came a small group of what could only be soldiers.

Ten hours later I was still working. Kris, I and from four o'clock, Mercedes, had been on our feet all day, serving the military men, past and present, who turned out to be celebrating yet mourning the end of something they referred to as Operation Banner. It wasn't until years later that I found out what that actually was all about. At ten o'clock, Jack and mum finally returned from Manchester, but they seemed so worn out after the day, that I refused their offer to take over, and it wasn't until closing time that I went upstairs to my room, butterflies in my stomach.

I went straight to the bedside table and picked up the phone before sitting down. There were twelve missed calls. I quickly saw that all of them were from Sarah, who'd eventually stormed into the pub around six o'clock and confronted me about not answering her calls. I'd managed to calm her down, explaining what had happened before I'd returned to the pint-pulling. Clearing the list of missed calls, the phone vibrated to signal that there were some text massages. There were seventeen unread ones, twelve from the voice mail service, four from Sarah, with four different versions of 'Why are you not picking up?'. Then there was one left, asking me to meet up.

The butterflies quickly evaporated and the knots were retied. It wasn't John Paul. It was Jake.

_3) Wednesday 1 August 2007_

I was having my favourite dream, the one with John Paul embracing me, spooning me, when I was interrupted. Yet, the interruption wasn't completely unpleasant. I felt hope and realised as I awoke why it was. My phone was vibrating silently, yet loudly, on the bedside table. Reaching for it, I felt excitement as I turned to read the name of the caller.

It was Sarah.

Disappointed I closed my eyes and dropped the phone on the bed, next to my right thigh. The vibration stopped, but started again a few seconds later.

It was her again.

Reluctantly I pressed the green button and placed the phone at my ear.

"Good morning," I hoped she didn't notice the flicker of hesitation before I continued, "my love. How are you today?"

I was surprised when I heard her crying.

"Sarah, what's wrong?" I asked her with concern. And yes, with guilt and fear.

"Craig ... I ... Can I come over? I need to see you ... I need to talk to you!" She muttered through her tears.

"Of course! Do you want me to come over?" I was quick to reply and ask.

"No!" She stated firmly, before continuing sobbing. "I'll be there in a bit."

I hurried to the bathroom, brushed my teeth and freshened up. I was pacing the floor in the room when she arrived. I embraced her, knots in my stomach.

"What's wrong?" I asked her, dreading the reply.

It wasn't what I'd feared. What she told me was the entire story of Leah's birth. That it was Amy who in fact was the baby's mother, and not their mum. That it had all been in the paper and that it was all Michaela McQueen's fault, that she'd sold the story. I calmly held her, allowed her to cry and told her that of course I forgave her for not telling me before.

Later, we had lunch. My mum gave har a good hug and told her not to worry about a thing, that all this with Amy and Leah was just regular family stuff and would be forgotten before we'd know it.

I have to admit that I felt a sense of admiration for my mum with how she dealt with Sarah. She was really sweet and although I'm sure she'd enjoyed the gossipy part of the story, she could also see the bigger picture.

After lunch we decided to go for a walk in the village. As we were walking through the pub, I heard a voice shouting, "Hey you!"

It was my girlfriend. She let go off my hand and walked towards John Paul's sister who was busy clearing glasses of the tables.

"How can you lot show yourselves after what happened?" She asked her angrily. "And where's your sister? I wanna have a word with her!"

"Oi! What do you mean?" Mercedes replied with similar spite, yet I could see that she was taken by surprise.

"What do I mean? Pretend like you don't know anything about what that witch did!" Sarah was not persuaded.

Mercedes looked like she was about to deck my girlfriend, so I stepped in and tried to calm things down.

"Merce, it's Michaela. She's sold Amy's story to the paper. We ... Sarah wants to talk to her."

"Craig!" Sarah was about to start shouting at me, but I gave her a look that made her back off.

"Do you know where she is?" I returned my attention to Mercedes.

"What do you mean? Don't you?" She replied dryly.

"Me? Why ... Why should I? It was my turn to be surprised.

"Didn't John Paul tell you?" She raised her left eyebrow. "They went backpacking around Europe together."

The knots in my stomach started loosening up. That was the reason John Paul hadn't returned my call. Still, they didn't disappear. 'Why didn't he leave a message telling me?' I kept on asking myself in my mind.

"No!" I hurried to reply before asking eagerly, "When are they coming back?"

"Dunno! They left last Sunday, and spoke about starting in France and then perhaps ending in Athens, depending on the money situation. Guess they'll last until Rome, if I know ´Chaela right" Mercedes replied. "I'd say they'll be back at the end of this week!"

The butterflies arrived before I fell asleep that night.

_4) Thursday 2 August 2007_

It turned out Mercedes knew her siblings quite well.

I was helping Darren in the pub when his phone rang, reminding me of the text message he'd sent me while I was on holiday. When he'd finished the call; I went over and asked him about it. He couldn't remember it, so I showed it to him.

"Oh, that one! Yeah, I must have sent it after the farewell party!" He replied.

"Which farewell party?" I prodded.

"You know, the one before they went away, you know." He must have noticed my confusion as he continued, "You know, your boyfriend and the little witch!" He chuckled at his own wit and I was too surprised to argue.

"Yeah, I remember now, John Paul asked me to say 'Hi!' or 'Goodbye!' or something – 'Give my regards!' he said, I think. Can't really remember exactly ... Sorry!"

"Which was it?" I asked irritably "Hello? Goodbye?"

"I don't know. You can ask him yourself. They're back!" Darren replied in a tone that told me to stop hassling him.

"What? How do you know?" I shouted.

"I'm psychic, mate!" He replied in a mock-mystical voice. "What do you think?" He picked up his mobile. "It was Mercedes, asking for the day off because of it. Which means that you must work her shift."

I was already out of the door before he finished that last sentence.

I ran all the way to the McQueen house. As I got nearer, the battle between the butterflies and the knots in my stomach escalated and I felt both delirious with excitement and nauseous with dread, and my steps got slower and slower. Still, I finally yet suddenly reached the house and before I hesitated I knocked on the door.

The door opened a few moments later. Realising right away that it wasn't him that answered the door, I rudely (I realise now) pushed past his sister Mercedes and entered the house.

"Where is he? I need to speak to him! Where's John Paul?" I asked as I looked at the people there.

It took only a moment for it to dawn on me that although all the McQueen women were present, the house was completely quiet apart from the whimper of Myra sobbing as she held her youngest daughter in her arms.

The knots of dread conquered as I repeated my question, barely whispering, "Where is John Paul?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Part Two – Decision Time**

_1) Friday 3 August 2007_

At seven o'clock I gave up trying to sleep and got up. I didn't have any appetite so I skipped breakfast and headed out of the house, not taking shower, as I didn't want to wake anyone. Before I knew where I was heading I found myself in the park. There were a few people around, joggers and dog walkers mostly, but I found an empty bench in a quiet part and sat down.

The events of the previous evening kept on going through my head. Yet, I still couldn't really take them in. I knew what I'd heard, but I couldn't understand it.

John Paul hadn't come back with his sister. And he's not coming back at all. At least for now, they said.

Apparently Mercedes was right. They reached Rome and ran out of money so Michaela had to get back. John Paul decided not to, decided to get a temporary job and continue the trip when he'd raised enough cash, didn't expect to be back until college started in October at the earliest. And he didn't take his mobile with him, so none of them can reach him – I can't reach him!

'What should I do? What should I do?' Tears started welling up in my eyes and I hid my face in hands. 'How did this happen?'

Of course I knew how this had happened. It was all my fault. I made him leave. That was what he meant with his voice mail message and what he asked Darren to tell me. 'Goodbye!'

But what could I do to undo this, to get him back?

I don't know how to reach him. I tried sending him an email after I got back from the McQueens the night before, but it bounced, with the information that the address didn't exist. I even rang Myra on the phone, but she claimed that none of them had a new email address for him. I don't know whether to believe her or not, but I guess she was telling the truth – how else would John Paul explain it to her that he didn't want his best mate to know his email address?

My brain was in overdrive, but no solution came to mind. I don't know whether it was the fresh air, but somehow I drifted away and fell into some sort of sleep there on the park bench.

The sun was shining and small rainbows formed and disappeared continuously around the Trevi fountain as I stood there, completely alone. It didn't strike me as strange that no-one else was there at this famous tourist spot in one of the most visited cities in the world. Neither was it strange how all of a sudden he was standing beside me and I was holding his hand. He smiled at me and spoke.

"Everything alright?"

"Everything is great," I replied. "Brilliant!"

"Everything alright?" He repeated.

"Yes, didn't you hear what I just said?" I replied confusedly.

"Are you alright, young man?" Now the voice was not coming from John Paul, but somewhere else. I looked around, and all of a sudden I was no longer at the Trevi fountain.

I opened my eyes and saw a policeman in front of me.

After he left, the sadness returned, but I knew what to do. I just didn't know how.

_Monday 6 August 2007_

After taking my seat I couldn't but reflect on the events of the weekend.

Telling Sarah hadn't been easy, but it had to be done. In fact, it was the first thing I did after leaving the park on the Friday morning. She didn't take it well, not well at all. Still, I was surprised as to how easy the words came to me when it mattered. I told her everything she needed to know, and tried to tell her how sorry I was for hurting and deceiving her. She was crying when I left her, but I had to stop me from embracing her and trying to calm her down – I knew it wasn't my shoulder she needed, so I called Hannah and asked her to go see her. Of course, I had to tell her what I had just told Sarah. She gave me an earful, but as I was about to hang up, she'd stopped me and wished me good luck.

Telling my mum and Jack had been worse. I'd hardly said my piece when mum started shouting, blaming John Paul for filling me with filthy ideas and trying to convince me to go back and make up with Sarah. She'd then gone out of the kitchen and slammed the door as she locked herself in her and Jack's bedroom. Jack hadn't said anything but patted my shoulder as he left the kitchen and headed downstairs to work.

Saturday was difficult. Mum didn't speak to me and Jake turned up and started shouting, basically repeating what our mum had said the evening before. I was, however, surprised when Darren had come to my defense and told Jake to shut up and leave, with the excuse that he was way to hung over too deal with this shouting. He'd then smiled at me before going back to his bedroom.

I went downstairs in the afternoon, and headed out. I went over to the McQueens and talked to Myra, both to tell her the truth and to see whether she had any idea as to how I could get in touch with John Paul. She reacted quite calmly to the news – well, calmly for her! It clearly wasn't anything she'd expected. She couldn't tell me anything more than she'd done on the Thursday, apart from the name of the hostel where he had been staying with Michaela. Still, when I left her house she gave me a quick hug and wished me good luck.

When I returned home the flat was empty. Mum and Jack were both working downstairs and Darren was somewhere out and about. I made myself a sandwich and took a small packet of crisps and a can of coke and headed for my bedroom. As I sat down at my desk I noticed a small plastic card next to the computer keyboard. It was Jack's credit card.

I thought time had never dragged on as slowly as on the Sunday. Not even waiting for mum and dad to wake up on Christmas Day as a kid could compare to this. The flight to Rome, however, outdid it. Those two hours and forty-eight minutes took as long as my entire life up until then. Same for the bus journey from the airport to the Termini, the main railway station. I'd already checked online how to get to the youth hostel. It was in Via Carlo Alberto, only a few minutes' walk from the station.

As I saw the street sign from Piazza Santa Maria Maggiore I felt fear and doubt flush over me. 'What if he wasn't there? What if he'd already left Rome? What if he didn't want to talk to me? What if he didn't want me at all?'

My first question was answered while I was still stood there on the Piazza. John Paul himself was walking towards me. He didn't notice me as his attention was focused on the guy walking beside him. I quickly turned to hide my face. I wasn't ready to talk to him just yet. But I was there in time. He hadn't left town.

I checked in and took my stuff to the double bedroom I'd booked for myself. It was surprisingly like a hotel, despite the relatively low price. I'd paid online for one night, but Jack had given me enough cash to stay for a week, and he'd told me that if I needed more, he'd sort it out.

I unpacked a few things and decided to lie down and close my eyes for a few minutes. I didn't expect to fall asleep, but I did. I didn't sleep long, however, but felt completely refreshed afterwards and jumped in the shower. I went down to the reception and asked which room John Paul was staying in. I went and knocked on the door, but no-one replied so I went back downstairs. I was thinking about going for a quick drink but suddenly felt hungry and the receptionist told me where in the area I could grab some cheap dinner.

After dinner, I went back to the hostel and retried John Paul's door. He wasn't home yet, so I went back downstairs, dropping by my own room to pick up a book to read, and took a seat near the entrance.

I'd been sitting there for almost an hour staring at the same page when he finally entered the building, still with that same guy. I jumped to my feet and called out his name, my voice hoarse with nerves: "John ... John Paul!"

He quickly turned towards me. His smile dropped and a look of hurt and bewilderment appeared on his face.

"Craig. I ... You ... What are you doing here?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Part Three – Where Do Broken Hearts Go?**

_1) Monday 6 August 2007_

There was a weird silence between us following John Paul's question. For some reason my mouth refused to obey my mind and didn't form the words I had planned. It's not like I was lost for words, it's just that my body didn't follow instructions. Finally it was John Paul who spoke again.

"So, do I get an answer ... an explanation? What are you doing here?" His voice rose as he spoke, and a tone of confidence and anger was evident. "Craig, answer me!"

Still, I just looked at him, totally frozen.

"Yeah, right! Bye!" He said sarcastically as he made to turn away.

Finally something happened to my body. It wasn't what I'd intended to do, but it seems as if my hand automatically shot out to grab his upper arm, and a whisper escaped my mouth: "John..."

He shook my hand off him, but remained standing in front of me, his back half-turned towards me. Slowly he turned to face me again.

"Craig, you can't just pop up here like this and then not say anything!" His impatience was clearly subsiding and he motioned for me to follow him. "Come!" he said as he turned away from me again.

A minute later we were in the room he seemed to be sharing with three others. I'd managed to follow him upstairs, but didn't think of inviting him to my room where there was less chance of an interruption. It was too late now. I don't know what happened to his mate, but there were only the two of us in the room.

"Sit!" he ordered and I obeyed. "Talk!" he then demanded and I still didn't.

"Craig?" He paused for a moment and when I didn't respond he continued. "You've come all the way over here, to Rome, and you must have something to tell me or ask me or something. It's not a weird coincidence that you're here? It's not like you've got Sarah waiting for you somewhere, is it?"

The sound of Sarah's name seemed to have the magical effect – I finally spoke.

"No!" I declared with confidence, yet a slight tone of incredulity, before blurting out: "Sorry, John Paul, I don't know what happened ... I had all this prepared ... you know, what I was gonna say ... and then you were all of a sudden there, and I ... I don't know ... froze."

I felt like I was regaining control over myself.

"Can I start again? John Paul, are you okay?"

As my strength increased, I could see and feel how John Paul's seemed to dwindle, like there was only a fixed amount that we could share between us.

"John Paul, sit down and just listen to me." I asked him quietly.

He did what I asked and sat down on one of the beds, which I assumed was his.

"Okay. Where do I start?" I hesitated. "John Paul, I love you! And I'm sorry for hurting you. You don't know how sorry I am ... for being a coward ... for taking the easy way out with Sarah ... for leaving you like that. And ... I took you for granted! I knew how much you love me – you still love me, don't you?"

My eyes welled up as I looked at him begging, yet I didn't wait for his reply.

"John Paul, I was certain you'd still want me when I got back, so when I got home and you weren't there, you don't know, how..." My voice trailed off, as I felt myself starting to cry.

"John Paul, you weren't there. You don't know how much I missed you while I was away, missed touching you, feeling you – smelling you. And then you didn't come back with Michaela. And she told the family that you wouldn't be coming back until the end of September ... after I'd left for Dublin. That's when I realised that you didn't want to see me again. That you'd made up your mind. That you'd given up on me."

I fell to the floor, hiding my face crying, the words I spoke making myself understand what I hadn't put in words before.

"I never thought you'd give up on me! I mean, you love me, John Paul. You love me and ... and I love you, and we're supposed to be together."

"But you made up your mind, Craig! You chose her ... you chose Sarah!"

As I weakened, John Paul regained his strength, and his voice was full of accusation.

"Craig, you left on holiday with her, and you left me ... you didn't even let me know, and I know you saw me running after the cab. What was I supposed to do, ay? Hang around Hollyoaks, waiting for you to come back, like some sort of a doormat?"

He spat out that last word and I physically felt it hitting me in the head.

"I couldn't do that. I felt devastated when you left with her. You obviously made your choice. You chose Sarah ... not me. Do you know how that feels? When the person you love more than anything in the world ... the person that you've been willing to do anything just to get the crumbs that fell off the table ... just leaves you like that? It's the worst thing I've ever experienced. When you hit me, it was nothing compared to this. I felt totally worthless! That my love for you was worthless to you."

He stood up, looking calmer.

"Anyway, Craig. What are you doing here? Is it just because I finally made a decision for _my_self, ay? Because it wasn't a part of your plan that I'd be gone? That you need to be in control, ay? And what did you tell everyone? Which excuse did you use for coming to Rome? Or didn't you tell anyone?" He asked sarcastically.

I looked up at him.

"Everything, I told them everything."

_2) Tuesday 7 August 2007_

Moments before waking up, I had that dream again, the one where I was waking up, being spooned by John Paul. It was just like all the other times, yet something was different now. As my mind cleared, I remembered. The dream was finally real.

**The End**


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